


Freedom is Multifaceted

by bubb



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Based mostly on how they were characterized in Moominvalley, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:02:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubb/pseuds/bubb
Summary: In which Snufkin learns that even when alone and vagabonding, one can still feel caged. And perhaps freedom isn't found where he originally thought.





	1. Chapter 1

_“You can’t ever be really free if you admire somebody too much! Believe me I know,”_

Now, admittedly, those words came from a weak state of mind. It was the Teety-Woo’s fault for riling him up. That irritating (at the time) creep, inching step-by step into _his space_ , causing a quicker hitch of panic to his breath by the second.

Snufkin had already felt pressured as it was, the winter lagged noggin under his hat an utterly muddled mess. He had surged with so many emotions that night, all of which crossing, overlapping and contradicting each other like a swarm of drunken swallows.

It had just slipped out too. In all the years Snufkin had been returning h-....to Moominvalley, he tried not to look at it that way. But maybe all this time, a hidden compartment of his mind had been conspiring against him. That sentence had come out of him, no doubt about it, so he had certainly mulled over those thoughts before.

But ever since he willed that string of words into existence, he couldn’t help but dwell on it. Even if he wished he could put it right back in his mouth.

Snufkin loved to wander and roam. He fancied himself as the untethered kind. Though perhaps it was time to consider the possibility that the equivocal concept of pure, never-ending freedom did not apply to him. And seeing as “Free” was something he defined himself as for the longest time, it could be quite unsettling to think it may not be true.

He was not free. Not as long as he was called away from his travels every year, not by a person, stranger or friend, nor force of nature nor written law. But a feeling of his own that had so stubbornly rooted itself inside him. It had a voice and the voice was _loud._

_Want Moomintroll! Want him right now!_

While Snufkin did not care for orders, he always listened to his heart. It caused unnecessary stress not to. But in this case, it went so strongly against his base desires, his entire _character_ if you will. It was no instinct but simply a yearning. A deep yearning to see the same face year after year.

A routine. A tradition. A promise. This kind of thing fell into all of these categories.

The way he had scoffed, amused at himself the first year he did so. But nonetheless, he entertained the strange craving anyway, under the belief it would not happen again.

Snufkin had no interest in meeting the same person twice. He had come across dozens of souls on his ventures and once they parted ways, he affectionately harbored them as immortalized memories to keep him company from then on. All of his “friends” had been One-Timers and he liked it that way. Once was enough after all.

But when it came to the Moomin, it simply wasn’t. He wished to see him again. And again. And again. And at the same time, he didn’t. But he didn’t _because_ he did.

Aughh! Complicated! It was all very complicated. And he _hated_ when things were complicated.

But Moomintroll made him happy. Was that not the important thing? Was his whole life philosophy not revolved around his own joy? That should simplify things, should it not?

But then again, the memory of the Moomin burdened him with a sense of obligation. Guilt too, which could be a real pain. He was _not_ happy when he felt a part of himself being called to return before the rest of him was ready.

He didn’t enjoy the emptiness of missing him either. And he certainly wouldn’t miss him so much if he didn’t leave his initial on another piece of his heart every spring. One day he would take it all, if Snufkin wasn’t careful.

Oh dear...

He couldn’t be free living this way, could he?

No. Maybe not.

Although, even with all that being said, Snufkin wasn’t going to dig his heels in on this one. He didn’t have the willpower to endure a year without Moominvalley. At least not yet.

Though sudden as it may seem sometimes, there were signs. Even before he could feel spring in his bones, Snufkin would behave in a way that could only be rationalized by the nature of his subconscious.

When he began talking to himself far more than usual, to fill a silence he had previously welcomed. Instead of maybe a mumbled word under his breath every few days, he wound up spending weeks spinning stories, carrying on conversations and even getting into disagreements with nobody but the sound of his own voice. (Who was a lot more confrontational than Snufkin originally believed. Really, you think you know a person after years of traveling by their side.)

When he heard music all around him, from every rush of wind to the trickle of nearby streams. The urge to compose buzzed as potential tunes became tangled in his head until he could unravel it all into something that every bird for miles would be chirruping. And Moomintroll would hear from wherever he was and his eyes would light up, assured his friend was on the way. With that thought in mind, the commitment of his spring tune became quite important to Snufkin.

And when he would awake in his tent, trapped in a knot of his own blanket and clutching his hat to against his chest for dear life. With stiff shoulders, He would prop himself up, breathing tightly as the vague outline of a familiar, white blob bounced around his skull from a dream to soon evaporate. And with it, the imagine spot of soft fur against his paws.

It all meant he was due to leave soon.

Yes. He would go a little while longer without being free. He had no choice in the matter, admiring someone as much as he did.


	2. Chapter 2

Snufkin had been young once.

Wearing a new pair of boots with plenty of growing room for his paws, he trekked the same woodland trail he had trekked last year. But it was no aimless wander this time around. You see, for once in his life, Snufkin had a destination in mind.

Maybe it was a little silly, yes, but he had _promised._ And while he had been unfamiliar with promises, his new friend was patient and quite happy to explain.

It was something of an oath, if he understood correctly. An unwritten yet somehow binding contract with no proper consequences of breach but the disappointment of the opposite party. It all sounded very business-like and Snufkin didn’t like that sort of thing. The prospect of a responsibility made him awful nervous too, especially one that was so unlike him.

Agreeing to such a commitment may have been the bravest thing he had ever done.

Or maybe it was just that Moomintroll (that was his new friend’s name,) had said a very good joke about teapots and their questionable contents and Snufkin was still chuckling over it minutes later. He must say that if Moomin’s intention was to put him in a giggly mood so he was more willing to make promises, that was rightly devious and he could only respect that.

(Although that probably wasn’t the case. Though Snufkin had not known him for long, he was a sweet Moomin and clever in his own way but mind tricks? Certainly not. )

His brow scrunched in doubt at the very notion. Shaking the thought away, he looked onward and adapted a more chipper stride. This was not something to fret over, this was exciting and he must remember that!

For now, he should savor the journey.

Snufkin didn’t know if he could pin a favorite day but he’d admit he was partial to early spring. He liked observing the gradual shift of his surroundings, the way the colors of his once frozen trail seeped through pearly patches, now blotched with shades of green. It was also nice to stroll without a frosty crunch to every step. One does grow tired of that sound after months of walking.

The sun glowed hesitantly, as if unsure if she was due to shine just yet. She sent streaks of faint gold through the cracks of forest trees, illuminating a path of spotlights which he hopped across like stepping stones.

“You don’t need to worry, you know,” Snufkin assured the sun, tipping his chin upwards and drawing the brim of his hat over his eyes. Not to be impolite but her rays tended to sting. “You’re right on time!”

Producing his harmonica, he filled his lungs and pressed it to his lips. Surely, she would know that when Snufkin played his tune, spring had come alive and she was free to shine to her heart’s content.

He carried on and played for himself and the woods, as sleepy animals occasionally stumbled across his path. Snufkin would smile, wishing them Good Morning as he passed by and they would groggily mutter in acknowledgment.

The inhabitants of the forest were always kept in mind when he composed. They were in need of something to stir them awake this time of year. Nothing too loud and boisterous as that would surely be an unpleasant wake-up call but a tune that was light and gentle to ease them into a new season.

He lowered his instrument in thought, pocketing it as he wondered if he must do the same for Moomintroll...

The forest thinned as he moved further along, noting the wide opening that welcomed all shadowy dwellers and roamers to Moominvalley. What popped out most prominently was the familiar blue abode, topped with scarlet and smoke puffing from the chimney.

They were awake.

 _He_ was awake.

That home, that place and that Moomin of his, all packaged into a singular experience, and getting closer by the footstep.

Snufkin inhaled, finding it didn’t come as easily as it was supposed to. He noticed how tightly he was gripping the straps of his rucksack and forcedly loosened his fingers, ignoring the way they fiddled and scratched.

He didn’t know how to do this.

There. Perhaps if he thought it so bluntly, it would ease his nerves.

...It did not.

How does one address somebody a second time anyway? Snufkin had never done so before. Must he re-introduce himself? He knew that a handshake was most commonly used for first impressions but did the same rules apply for the next time around? What was the social norm here?  Was another “Hullo” required? Maybe he ought to have brought a gift...

While it was plainly obvious to everyone he interacted with that he was a _tad_ socially inept, (Not terrible, just unwilling to go along with the proper procedure sometimes. Liked his personal space, he did.) Snufkin could only shrug, indifferent. What was he supposed to do? There weren’t exactly etiquette classes readily available in the wilderness.  And even then, it didn’t matter. He was friendly enough to get himself by. He had every right to express himself in whatever way he saw fit.

But Moomintroll, who thought so highly of him...

The hours they had spent all those months ago, fishing over the bridge as Snufkin would speak to his captivated audience of one. He recounted his past adventures, fighting down giddiness every time the Moomin gasped at his twists and turns. And when every story ended, he would make a sound of delight, clapping his paws together and Snufkin would crack a grin and offer to play him something.

He always believed he didn’t like being admired. It certainly annoyed him to no end being recognized as some sort of infamous, criminal gadabout. Not that he didn’t like the title, just the attention attached. Maybe it was simply the lack of control he had in who knew his name and who didn’t.

For when it came to Moomin (who had never heard of Snufkin beforehand) it was nice to introduce _himself_ for a change. Far more pleasant than having someone already know him because of information being spread around through word of mouth.

And he had even asked with upmost sincerity if these stories were meant to be secrets. Snufkin had let his bottom lip fall, taken aback. No one had ever asked him that. Eagerly blabbing away everything he told them to whoever would listen, seemed to be what happened most of the time.

Once Snufkin had regained himself, he opened his mouth, hesitating a second before he said “Yes... yes, they’re secrets. Just between you and me.”

Moomintroll had beamed at him and it was a look he would never forget. Of course, half the forest already knew these “secrets” but it didn’t matter. Something about that unimportant little interaction had his heart pattering in excitement. He and his _friend_ were sharing a secret!

 Maybe one day they would share a proper one too.

Moomin liked him. Not to be arrogant but he believed Moomin _really_ liked him. And as childish as it may seem, Snufkin found himself wanting to actually be the wise and level-headed person he was perceived as, the person who had Moomintroll so awestruck.

So you must understand why he was a little anxious right now, as he would most likely be seen as he really was. Someone who wasn’t quite sure how to properly reunite with his friend.

His insides continued to squirm.

This wasn’t right, he must think positively about this. Maybe he had nothing to worry about! It was quite possible he _had_ no reputation to ruin as Moomintroll might not even remember him!

Snufkin stopped dead.

No. No, that was not the right thing to think at all...

He stood there, locked in place. He had reached Moominvalley. Another step forward and he would slip from the shelter of his forest and be exposed under sunlight, as uncertain as himself.

His heart sank to his stomach and his own spring tune continued to warble in the air among the trees. Suddenly, Snufkin didn’t want to hear it anymore. It was far more piercing than it had been a few moments ago and it made him feel sick.

He didn’t want this, he didn’t want spring anymore. He wasn’t ready for this yet. He couldn’t-

_Snap_

Snufkin gasped, easily spooked by the now broken twig beneath his boot. Unbeknownst to himself, his body had begun backing away, just about ready to break into a sprint and retreat when he was, quite literally, snapped out of it.

It took him a minute to gather a breath that didn’t quiver but once he put himself back together, Snufkin firmly adjusted his hat and announced “He _will_ remember me.” as adamant as his voice would allow.

“He has to,” He then muttered, marching on and refusing to let his pace slow down.

Moomintroll would remember Snufkin.

Because if he didn’t...well....he didn’t know what he’d do....

So, mustn’t think about _If’s,_ think about Moomin’s memory of him, which was _certainly_ intact.

....It _was._

His eyes slid shut and Snufkin fell back into the comfort of his tune, accustomed touch of his beloved harmonica soothing to jittering fingers.

He found it gave him the façade of indifference to where he was and who he came across. And during times like this, that sort of thing was absolutely crucial. If he wanted to come out of this experience without hiding in his tent for a decade afterwards, that is.

Music broke the valley’s silence as he crossed the land and despite his worry, affection still bubbled inside him at the sight of how... _untouched_ everything was. Exactly as he left it. Same cockle-stove shaped house just across the way. He ran his paw down the weathered post-box with the same faded paint, by the same old wooden bridge curved over the same river.

He smiled tightly. Snufkin was quite fond of this simple place. He just hadn’t realized it until everything was immersing him yet again.

The bridge was a little slippery, still thinly layered with ice, so he grasped the railing to climb the upwards slope. Finding steady footing at the halfway point, he peered over the edge to observe a stream of minnows. They rippled through his reflection, which was thankfully a lot less anxious in expression than he felt on the inside.

“SNUFKIN!” Burst a shout from above, echoing with distance. The voice producing said shout was incredulous, thrilled and breathless all at once.  And most significantly, it was a voice he knew and the sudden sound of it corrupted the regulation of his breathing for a moment.  

His head snapped up wildly to set sights on Moomintroll, who was hastily swinging his legs over a second story window.

“Oh, my...I’m-...I’m coming down now!” He called out with a wave, sounding absolutely beside himself. “I’m coming, don’t worry! Don’t-...” He was panting. “Don’t go anywhere, I’m coming,”

As he descended the ladder, Snufkin suffered several mild heart failures as he witnessed every sway of the rope with his friend’s weight, every fumble of his hurried paws through the ringers  and every time the maladroit Moomin could have easily lost his grip and fallen.

He didn’t. Somehow.

If this was how he _always_ climbed his ladder, Snufkin had no earthly idea how Moomintroll was still alive.

He hopped a few inches from the ground and thankfully landed safely. Then, without even taking a moment to congratulate himself for avoiding death, whirled around on his heel, launched to run, tripped over his own paws upon first dash, scrabbled back up again and was then barreling across the yard at the quickest pace that a short-legged, heavyset, winter coated Moomin was capable of.

Snufkin, meanwhile, was frozen where he stood, quite possibly gawking at his joyous friend as his mind was still reeling from all of this.

Just like everything else, Moomintroll remained the same, as excitable as he had left him. Maybe an inch taller or so but still, minor details didn’t matter if you consider the core, which still brimmed with warmth. Maybe he needn’t feel paranoid about his friend changing too much in his months away. No matter what, it would always be Moomin. For whatever reason, that gave him a sense of comfort.

Comfort which vanished instantaneously as the Moomin’s arms flung outwards once he reached him. Panic spiked in Snufkin as he rushed out “Nono, hang on, the bridge is still-”

Moomintroll attempted to leap into an embrace, Snufkin dodging reflexively, and with a slide against ice, teetered to the side and dropped off the bridge with a great yelp of surprise.

Snufkin flinched as the splash left him soaked, too shocked to lower his uselessly clenched paws as Moomintroll gasped and spluttered from below.

“-slippery...” He finished weakly, leaning down with paws on his knees to address the bobbing, white head and lifted one shoulder in an apologetic shrug.

Alright, so...

That could have gone better.

“Ohhh, I see now,” Moomin commented smoothly as he waded there, gazing up at Snufkin. “Still a bit chilly, I suppose. But that aside, weather’s quite nice, isn’t it?”

Snufkin could only give him a vacant look, processing the casual air of the question before he blinked rapidly and pressed “Are you  _okay_?”

“Of course, of course, just wonderful!” Said Moomintroll, trying and failing to hide the chatter of his teeth. He would be inclined to believe that was sarcasm if not for his friend’s good-humored tone as he paddled back to land.

“Do that all the time, nothing to worry about.”

“Oh?” Snufkin raised a brow. “Didn’t know it was slippery during the rest of the year,”

“It isn’t.” He mumbled under his breath.

Sopping wet, Moomintroll climbed out of the river and joined him where he stood, a little more careful navigating the bridge this time.

The way he stopped before him, in such an expectant way, had Snufkin realizing what was at play here. Their proper greeting, which he had been dreading so.

Silence stretched, only filled by an ambiance of subtly dripping fur, as they stood face-to-face. His friend fiddled with his fingers, momentarily glancing off to the side with a look of confusion.

Think fast!

In a moment of violent brain racking, a whir of things to say echoed in his head, everything from "Hullo," to "How are you?" to "You look like a melting snowman," Snufkin finally jerked his head in a curt nod. “Moomintroll.” He said sharply. 

Not a second after the name popped off his tongue, Snufkin internally winced. A clinical acknowledgement of one’s existence did not seem like an appropriate reception for a friend, did it?

But Moomin, thank the stars, sweet Moomin, was good enough to respond likewise. Though a little thrown off at first, stammering out a quick “O-oh, oh, yeah right, right, right...”, his look was promptly wiped clean and fixed into one of nonchalance as he propped himself coolly against the railing.

“Snufkin.” Nodded Moomintroll, looking elsewhere.

Ah, excellent! So that _was_ a socially acceptable greeting!

“How was your winter?” He asked, removing his soggy hat and giving it a wring-through. The extracted water puddled at his boots.

Meanwhile, his friend was content to simply shake himself dry. Snufkin stepped aside, arms raised to shield himself as a spray of droplets flecked in every direction.

Moomin did not seem to notice. He hummed, considering the question.

“Peaceful, I suppose. Considering I slept through most of it. Rolled over and fell out of the bed a few times. Had a dream about frogs too.”

“Frogs?” Snufkin cocked his head, intrigued.  

“Yeah, well, it left me quite overwhelmed actually.” The Moomin’s brow furrowed, before perking up to explain. “Alright, so, in my dream, frogs were going instinct, you see. There were so few frogs left and we were all very upset about it.”

“I can imagine,” Said Snufkin quietly, with an aghast shake of his head. Moving to sit over the edge, as his friend followed suit, he plopped himself down with a soft grunt.

Moomin copied said grunt.

“A world without such an extraordinary little creature. I think I’d cry.”

“Papa was certainly the most devastated.” Moomintroll mentioned, gaze fixed at his own dangling legs in an almost melancholy way. “He seemed so fond of frogs in the dream. Even though I asked him about it when we woke up and he said he didn’t care for them much. Still felt very sorry for Dream Papa though.”

“What about the frogs?”

“Them too. Poor frogs...”

“No, no, I mean, was there a happy ending for the frogs?” Snufkin asked, habitually stroking the hat in his lap. He was invested in the storyline now.

“Oh, there was!” Nodded Moomintroll, with an eager swish of his tail. “So, my friend, Sniff-”

 “Is Sniff the blonde girl you plan to marry or the long eared-one that I find annoying?”

“The one you find annoying. Anyway! In my dream, Sniff _found_ a whole frogspawn in his attic-”

“In his attic...?” Snufkin’s lip twitched in amusement.

“It was a dream, Snufkin! Odd things tend to happen in dreams. They’re tricky, you know? They trick you into thinking they make sense!” Moomin jabbed a finger at him, as if warning him, in particular, about the dangers of dream deception. As if Snufkin had never dreamt in his life.

“Also Sniff doesn’t even _have_ an attic so that’s not even the strangest part.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He fought down his smile, politely raising his paws in surrender. “Please. Do continue.”

Moomintroll inhaled deeply, waving his own wrist around to remember his place. “So! We decided to raise them in the bath and they hatched _very early on_ ,”

“And then you let them go?”

“Nonono, we had to keep them there, you see. To breed the future generations and-”

“Surely, they’d be better suited to out here, than a bath.” Snufkin interrupted. He pushed out his right boot to gesture to the running river. “Frogs shouldn’t be kept inside, I don’t think.”

An unfamiliar look crossed Moomintroll’s face. He swore it was a flicker of exasperation. “You must remember, this is a hypothetical situation, Snufkin.”

“I know that, Moomintroll. And my hypothetical solution would be to set the frogs free in the river.”

“If you were so against it, you should’ve said so in the dream then,” Moomin retorted.

His brow shot up in pleasant astonishment. “ _I_ was in the dream?”

“Yes, you were! You traveled far and wide, once you heard we had the last frogs left in the world. I gave you one as a gift and you were delighted-”

Snufkin made a noise of protest. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely not, _what?_ ”

“I wouldn’t accept a gift. Especially not a pet. Don’t like either.”

“Aww, but this frog _adored_ you!” Moomintroll cooed, scooching closer insistently, oblivious to how his friend automatically edged himself a space. “He was purring and cuddling against your legs-”

His brief discomfort was forgotten as he almost choked with a sudden chuckle. “That’s not what frogs do at all!”

“Exactly!” The Moomin chirped, ears flapping happily at making Snufkin laugh. “It was a frog unlike any of its kind, just like you!”

Snufkin could only scoff at that. “Your dream sounds ridiculous.” He murmured, still grinning to himself as he leaned back on his paws and looked out contently into the distance.

“It probably was,” Moomintroll shrugged. “I’ll give it credit though, it kept me entertained through the winter. It was nice having all those frogs.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Quiet fell between them as Snufkin idly swung his legs, lowering his look to watch the sunlight mirror a gleam of liquid gold against the water. He was proud to notice that she seemed a little more confident in herself now.

Maybe, she had taken Snufkin’s success in the face of doubt as an encouragement.

Moomintroll had become silent as he was either contemplating the next branch of conversation or he too was finding a comfort in tranquility.

It was quite nice. In any other circumstance, Snufkin couldn’t relax in a quiet moment if there was someone at his side. He didn’t enjoy feeling watched, or waiting in irked anticipation for the other person to speak. But somehow, this worked for him. 

Moomin’s energy may be a sharp contrast to his own, yet there was a peace to him too. A peace that Snufkin appreciated during times such as these.

“Enjoying the sunshine, boys?”

The two looked up at the soft but sudden interruption, turning attention to the sound of the voice.

A figure stood at the foot of the bridge, possessing two steaming cups of tea and a placid smile. “Hello, Snufkin, dear. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Hullo, Moominmama.”

Ah, so there were multiple forms of second greetings.

“Now, I hope you remember what I said to you, last year.” She said, lifting a foot to step upwards.

“Careful, Mama. The bridge, it’s a bit-”

“It’s alright, dear, I know.” Moominmama soothed her son as she reached the center, passing him a cup, with a loving stoke to his head. “Who would be silly enough to go running up the bridge without checking first?”

Moomintroll’s ears flattened, a twinge of annoyance tweaking his features. “Someone who’s still a bit sleepy, in fairness to him.” He grumbled into his teacup.

Snufkin accepted his own, nodding politely. “Thanks.”

She considered him with a light tilt of her head, the innocent gesture so reminiscent of her son. “Same as I said last year, Snufkin. If you ever happen to feel like it, just “Mama” would be fine.”

He felt himself color slightly. Ignoring the dampness of his hat, he rammed the thing on his head in one quick motion, to better hide his face if he saw fit. “Moominmama.” He repeated with an averted gaze, a subdued conviction to his tone.

“That’ll do just fine, whatever suits.” She shrugged, gentle as ever despite receiving what he believed to be a considerably rude response.

Snufkin liked Moominmama quite a bit. But when one survives all this time without a mother, one shouldn’t cave in to the love of the first maternal figure that comes along. He was far too old for that sort of thing now.

The image of her constant doting and fawning over _him_ of all people, gave him a strange emotion. He couldn’t say for sure if he liked it or not but whatever it was didn’t feel natural to him. So, logically, it was best not to think about and instead be briskly bottled away to deal with another time.

Just like all the other feelings that he hadn’t gotten around to yet.

“I’m surprised to see you without a fishing pole, Snufkin,” She commented, nodding to his paws, which curled only around his cup as opposed to the usual tool of choice.

“Had to trade it.”

“Oh?” Urged Moomin and his mother in unison.

“Mm.” Snufkin took a sip of tea and hid his grimace at the surprise sweetness. Milk and sugar, it seemed. Not that he disliked such a taste, he just tended to forget the usual additives of a stable household with a stocked kitchen.

“Took a liking to trout for a few weeks.” He began. “So day after day, I caught it, I cooked it, I ate it. But then one day, I was halfway through eating when I stopped and decided I was sick of trout. Had no interest in fishing anymore and believed I never would again. Really fancied some soup....”

“So, who’d you trade it to?” Moomintroll asked.

“A Hemulen.”

“For what?”

“Enough cans of soup to last me two weeks.”

“But Snufkin,” Said Moominmama. “If you were to eat soup every day, would you not become sick of it too?”

Snufkin opened his mouth to answer, only to flounder for a moment and snap it shut. He raised the cup to his lips once more.

He heard a snicker.

Knowing exactly what to expect before he even witnessed it, Snufkin glanced to the Moomin with a knitted brow of irritation.

Snowy paws were clasped over his snout to compress a bubble of laughter, the tips of his grin hopelessly peeking outwards. “That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it?”

“Maybe some foresight should’ve been used, yes,” He huffed. “But you must understand... _I was hungry.”_

“That’s reasonable, yes,” Moominmama said with a hum of understanding. “Little ones often make very silly decisions when they haven’t eaten.”

_He was not a little one._

It took every ounce of will for Snufkin to resist correcting her. He was well aware that whining about such a petty thing would give the impression that she coined him correctly. Which she did not.

He settled for letting it go, settling his elbows across his knees and shaking his head nonchalantly. “I’ll be sure to think about it more next time around. In the meantime, I need to find myself a new fishing pole.”

“Well, you’re in luck!”

Snufkin tilted his hat back to see Moominmama sparing a thoughtful look towards the house. “I do believe I left it-....yes, it’s in the kitchen cupboard!”

“Oh, I forgot about that one!” Said Moomintroll. “Papa got a new fishing pole last summer so,”

“We still have his old one back at the house. If you want to pop in later, I’ll have it ready for you,”

“Oh...oh...I-...thanks!” Snufkin’s heart jumped. He found himself to be delighted, something he didn’t anticipate and could only process such a thing with rapid blinking and a shooting looks of gratitude between the two Moomins.

“Thank you, I appreciate it! Um. Thank you. Thank you very much. ”

“Anything at all, dear.” Moominmama smiled warmly. “Anything you need help with, always feel free to ask,”

“Thank you.” He said again, feeling stupid repeating himself to such an extent but he wasn’t sure of the rest of the protocol in this situation.

She shook her head. “Unconditional help and hospitality is always given in this household. Especially to someone as important as our little Moomintroll’s best friend-”

 _“Mama!”_ Moomin blurted out, voice gone high and cracking with panic. Casting Snufkin a split-second look, he hastily cleared his throat. “Mama. Why don’t you go-....have some Mama Time?”

Snufkin could only watch the exchange in stunned silence.

Best friend? He mouthed the term to himself, deciding no, there must be some mistake on Moominmama’s part. Either that or it was how Moomintroll actually thought of him.

Oh no.

“Mama Time, dear?”

“Yes, you know some-....some time for yourself! To paint or to knit or to-....um-....to Papa! Papa, your adoring husband who you simply must go ravish right this instant!”

Eyebrow quirked in amusement and paws set on her hips as she let him babble away, Moominmama finally released a chuckle. “I suppose that’s a nice idea. Must go tell your father how much I love and appreciate him. It _is_ one of the most important things you can say to someone, isn’t it?”

Her eyes settled on Snufkin for a moment, with a look that unnerved and comforted him at the same time. Which shouldn’t make sense in retrospect, but today was full of surprises.

It was as though she was observing an abandoned baby bird, fallen from his nest. She knew exactly how things should be handled from the point of rescue, and it had him feeling like everything would be alright.

Which was news to him as he could’ve sworn everything _was_ alright. But now she had him thinking it wasn’t and he didn’t care for it.

Moominmama may have bid them goodbye as she left but Snufkin barely registered it. His head was buzzing. And once she had gone, he realized that there was a certain bud he must nip before things got out of hand.

They were alone again, the atmosphere not nearly as relaxed as before.

Snufkin certainly knew how maddening it was to be scrutinized, so instead of blatantly staring at his friend, he settled for sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye.

Moomintroll was clutching his cup so tight, he was leaving claw marks against ceramic. He tipped and sipped every two seconds in a curt, stiff routine, a stain of blush seeped across his white face. His tail was standing upright, taut and tense.

Snukin inhaled. This was going to be unpleasant.

“So. Best fr-?”

 _“I don’t know where she got that from!”_  The Moomin practically exploded.

His eyes popped wide at the sudden shout, instinctively raising his paw to placate him. “Moomin-”

“It’s not like it was something I said to her! I swear she must’ve just been making assumptions and-”

“Moomintroll.” Said Snufkin. He took care not to yell, but he was required to raise his usually quiet voice to be heard over his friend’s frantic insistence. “It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Oh?” Moomin had frozen mid-gesticulation, his arms still thrown in the air as he had wildly waved them about when explaining himself.  He looked as though he had been caught in an unfortunately odd position during a game of Musical Statues. “Oh...”

“Oh.” Snufkin echoed. “It’s fine, it really is. I get that it was a misunderstanding.”

And he couldn’t be more relieved, honestly. At least he and Moomintroll were on the same page here. Snufkin didn’t want a best friend. Not one bit.

Of course, he had gotten excited about having a regular friend, but there were no fancy titles of preference attached to that. He liked Moomintroll, everything from his humor to lively nature, to his charm and his bright eyes. But if he could help it (which he _could_ ) he would keep that liking to a minimum.

Can’t have it going any further than it already had. While a taster of promises and secret sharing had given him a rush of adrenaline, (and an unfamiliar craving for _something_ that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.) that was as far as Snufkin was willing to go on the friendship scale.

The current state of their relationship thrived on beneficial enjoyment of each other’s company. That was all it was. A source of entertainment for both of them. Someone to chat with occasionally and applaud his stories and harmonica tunes. Surface-level and enjoyably uncomplicated.

Loyalty had no place in this association, nor did commitment nor emotional attachment. He could leave without saying goodbye and it wouldn’t mean a thing.

.....not that he would.

It took him mere seconds to contemplate the possibility of a bond deeper than they had and he recoiled instantaneously. No. Absolutely not. It was awful dangerous to get too cozy with the thought of pitching oneself. Snufkin wouldn’t let that happen.

“But-....um, on the subject of that,” Moomintroll mumbled, staring determinedly at his knees. “Do you-....er, do you think that we-....?”

“Don’t worry. I know we’re not best friends.” Snufkin assured him happily. “And I can assure you we never will be.”

It took him a moment.

Or two moments.

Or...if he was truly under oath to be perfectly honest, it took him many, _many_ moments to understand why saying such a thing, intended as companionable, had made Moomintroll so upset.

Perhaps, ‘upset’ was an understatement. Utterly devastated, was more like it. Everything spelled it out, from the droop of his ears and fall of his face to the eternal glow dulling from his eyes. Moomin was crushed and even someone like himself could plainly see that.

And it took him even longer (years even.) to realize why seeing such a look on his face outright tore Snufkin’s heart to pieces.

“Are you okay?” He asked, surprised to hear his own voice had softened without deliberate intent.

“Okay?” Moomin sounded a little dazed. He was staring blankly into space before blinking himself back to reality. “Am I-...oh! Oh, yes, of course, I’m just-....” He seemed to choose his words carefully before continuing. He swallowed. “I’m perfectly fine. I was just going to say that-....no, I mean, yes, I agree with you. Being best friends would be silly. Completely ridiculous.”

Moomintroll laughed. The most strained sound he had ever heard.

“Right....?” Snufkin was apprehensive. He set his teacup down to the side.

There was no good reason for the Moomin to be acting like this all of a sudden. It had just come out of nowhere too! One minute things were fine and Snufkin was saying they would never be best friends and the next he-....

Oh. 

Ohhhhhhh.

He understood now.

It _was_ as he had originally assumed and that was simply no good at all. Snufkin would now have to explain, as delicately as he possibly could (which was by no means masterful) that he was not best friend material. That he wouldn’t, couldn’t and shouldn’t be a best friend. Ever.

But then he made the mistake of glancing at Moomintroll, who was sat in a pathetic slouch, paws fiddling miserably in his lap and Snufkin suddenly felt a rush of grief. He almost wanted to give up something, to give up _anything_ in order to bring back his friend’s light. Something was spurring him to make a bad decision, he could feel it simmering under.

For what was a best friend _really?_ If he really thought about it, was it not just a superficial label? Should he really fret too much over it?

This....was probably a dangerous thing to be considering....

No! No, it was not. Snufkin was being logical about this, he was level-headedly weighing out the situation. Just because he would refer to himself as a best friend did not necessarily mean he would become too emotionally attached to Moomintroll. He was being too cautious to think so.

Who cared anyway? Their relationship would remain the same, but Moomin would have something more “Special” to call Snufkin. Plus, it would mean he would stop being sad now. And for the love of all that was good, Snufkin was _desperate_ to put an end to that.

So, maybe he should.

Or maybe he shouldn’t.

Or maybe he should.

But he also must remember his pride.

But on the other hand _what pride?_

That is a good point, however-

.....

The internal debate dropped dead.

Before he could properly think it through, Snufkin had made contact.

Though never one for touching, he couldn’t describe the sudden gesture as anything but an impulse. Just a few seconds of lingering eyes on fur and it had happened. Nothing too personal but just a brush of his paw against the crook of Moomintroll’s elbow.

Snufkin almost drew away upon realizing what he had done but once Moomin turned to him, blinking in polite curiosity, his mouth formed a tight line and he held on a little more confidently.

“You know,” He said slowly, only to find himself a little breathless. Though, just a little. “Maybe being best friends _is_ silly,”

Moomintroll looked a tad stung. “Yes. Yes, maybe it is.”

“But as one who trades his fishing pole for soup,” Snufkin cracked a grin. “Speaking to one who topples over bridges regularly and has frogs on the brain,”

Moomin chuckled, a glint returning to his irises.

“I’d say we’re both suitably silly for such a thing. If you accept me as your best friend that is, Moomintroll?”

For it didn’t mean much.

It was nothing but a superficial label with no real substance, all in the name of keeping Moomin happy.

From then on, their relationship would remain as it was. Surface-level.

Snufkin had been young once. And at the time, he had been naïve enough to believe in this mentality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whos gonna tell snufkin he is lowkey infatuated with moomin cause i dont think hes figured that out yet


End file.
